Thursday, January 14, 2016

Kijiji This, B*&%h

If you are looking to lose all faith in humanity, the
quickest and most effective way (short of visiting a slaughterhouse, dropping
yourself in the throes of war, or watching Gilmore Girl reruns) is to put an ad in Kijiji.

In my personal, yet somewhat vast experience, 90% of the
citizens of Kijij-land are stark raving mad, sadistic torturers who take some
crazy, warped pleasure in luring you into the satisfying delusion that they
will actually show up at X o'clock to view whatever it is your are trying to
unload, only to leave you waiting, sitting at home, wondering why the heck you
ever put that ad up in the first place.

They are brain-numbing, time-killing morons. I now have more
sympathy for my single friends who have tried internet dating...too much
sifting required, life is way too short. Needles in haystacks have nothing on
the Kijiji process.

Last night, a particular person who obviously has a Kijiji
passport contacted me multiple times to be sure I would be home for the unloading
of a working dishwasher, which was listed at the extraordinarily value price of
$25. I arranged my day around this schedule, to be sure to accommodate, so the
big deal could go down.

I even texted my friend, Patty who lives across the street
because I would be home alone at that time of the Kijiji viewing. A while back,
Patty, who seems to have a sense of humour far more warped then even myself
has, on occasion, caused me to "laugh out loud" during the texting
process. Needing a new furnace, but not happy about the outlay of money
required, I texted her to ask if she needed a kidney. I was not prepared for
her answer, as she wrote, "Yes, I might actually." Pause. "I had
to sell one of mine last month."

Here is the most recent Kijiji texting conversation avec
Patty:

Me: I have some guys coming to take our dishwasher from
Kijiji and I'm home alone. They should be here in 30 minutes. Could you keep an
eye out that I am not kidnapped.

But, alas, all this cautionary set-up was for vain, as two
minutes before the scheduled roundez-vous, a woman called to tell me she had
lost her bank card.

I found this excuse to be like my upper body strength--a
little weak. A lot weak actually, but who's measuring? However, this by far
wasn't the lamest excuse I've heard. There was the guy who missed an appointment
for a swing set he was to pick up for his mother (she wanted it for her
grandkids). Silly sod didn't show, I called his mother to let her know. She had
seemed so excited to get the set. She must have worked her motherly charm, as
the son soon called to apologize. His highly unusual excuse--he had forgotten
about the time change--daylight savings and all that. You may question my
qualifying "highly unusual" for who among us hasn't gone, "Oh
darn. I forgot about that time change" on the Sunday afternoon or God
forbid, the Monday morning of "the change". In fact, my car clock is inaccurate 6 months out of
every year. The unusualness of the excuse was the time change had been three
weeks earlier. You think he would have noticed the time had changed by now. Kijij Citizen. That's all I can say.

Then there are those other
Kijji-ites. You know the ones: the ones that incessantly, text and email, you
to hold the item for you. Then, when they don't turn up, you sell it to someone
else the next day. And, wouldn't you know it, they contact you two days later,
expecting you to still have it. In fact, they are angry, sometimes swear and
question your morality, religious affiliation, code of ethics and call you
evil, or worse, a Progressive Conservative.

Although Kijiji is a rather new world, the mentality is not.
Many moons ago, during the Stone Age (Pre-Kijiji-itis), I "sold" (as
in gave away) a complete bathroom suite of tub, sink and toilet. Back in day we
used something called "Classified Ads," a form of written
communication where people looked in paper newspapers. A family came, loaded
all the gear up in their truck, strapped it in tight, and just as they were
about to leave announced that they didn't have any money on them and would go
to the bank and return with the $30. Before anyone could say, "Bob's your
uncle" or "Susie is your sister" or "Hammy is your
hamster" they took off never to be seen again. The joke really was on
them, though. If you ever go into a house with the ugliest hue of purple-puke
toilet, sink and tub in a bathroom, call me, I'll show up to collect.

If you list an original, long-lost Picasso for $5, I can
almost guarantee the person showing up at your door will ask if you would take
$2.50 for it. However, if you put your five-year-old $70 Bosu Ball for $50, a
woman in an Escalade will show up and not even blink as she hands over her
crisp $50 bill (I know this to be fact because it happened to me. For real,
peeps).

So, if you want to venture into Kijiji-land unarmed, I will
impart to you the results of my extensive research. Here is a summary of my
findings I like to call The Six Laws of Kijiji--the economic and social
findings using the knowledge I gained in my University statistics class (the
class I almost failed. Luckily the Prof graded on the curve. I don't know what that means, however, because as I said, I almost failed the class. But, it must be a good thing, because I got the credit.). So, here are my
Kijiji Laws. If Newton can have laws, so can Heather...

The lower the price of an item, the greater the
likelihood the buyer will ask for a discount.

The higher the frequency the potential buyer emails,
texts or calls you is a clear social indicator that they are less likely to
actually show up.

There is an inverse relationship between the distance
travelled to view the item and chances of the potential buyer actually
purchasing the item.

The more pictures, measurements, letters of authenticity,
patina hue, etc, the potential buyers ask for, the lower the chances they will
purchase.

If something doesn't actually work, purchasers will pay
more.

If a person does not show up and you sell the item to
someone else, even if it is days later, the original buyer who didn't show up
will be mad at you.

There you have it! If you do decide to navigate the waters
of Kijiji-land, you have been forewarned. As for me, I probably won't be
spotted frequently in that country. Instead, I may be seen in Good Will Land or
Salvation Armyville or even, on occasion at the hamlet of Re-Store.

About Me

Recipe for Me--Yield: Makes a half-baked middle aged woman--Ingredients:
1 part teacher, 2 parts writer, 1 teaspoon photographer, 3 parts mother, and 4 parts publisher--Mix all parts together evenly. Let sit for 49 years in extreme climate conditions and varying degrees of stress and this is what you get.